


Beauty in Brokenness

by RinzlersGhost



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Isolation, References to Depression, References to anxiety, References to self-harm, This story is full of issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinzlersGhost/pseuds/RinzlersGhost
Summary: This story was written for me by me and I'm choosing to share it. I have a lot of chronic physical and mental health issues in my life, and I always like to try to imagine what my life would be in Imladris, because I don't think I'd realistically get very far away from it on my own. Do I think I'd fangirl and pass out at the sight of elves? Probably, but I'm not writing that here. Would I also be 110% obsessed with Elrond? Yes, and you will see a little bit of that here.A bit of a concept of the Elvish fea (spirit/soul) and how it shows itself and how you can interact with it. A bit of an underexplored topic that I've seen referenced in other fanfic works.Italicized text is either Elvish or spoken text in a spirit world. Bold italicized text implies that you're in a spirit world.Glorfindel X Fem! Reader
Relationships: Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Boe enni nestron - I need a healer  
> Hir-nin - My Lord  
> Boe enni dulu - I need help  
> Iesten - Please  
> Mellon-nin - My friend  
> Hiril-nin - My Lady
> 
> I use the idea of fea healing, which in other words would mean spirit healing.

How do people cross planes? Do they die in one world and wake up in another? Are you reborn or do you maintain physical form? Do portals open in the ground and swallow people whole? There were so many unanswered questions in your mind. You were fairly sure that you fell into the first category-- died in one world and woke up in another-- except, you were still fairly injured, and you were also certain that there was a pack of orcs chasing you. Nothing was familiar to you, but the creatures behind you gave way to the world you were in.

You barely remembered the events that had happened that got you here, only knew that some instinct, some drive was pushing you forward, that you had to keep running despite the fact that it burned with every step. You had woken up to being encircled by them; you suspected they were getting ready to eat you as the sword had slashed at your stomach, spilling fresh blood. It was your scream that had scattered them and you were clutching your stomach as your vision blurred in and out.

You barely saw the figure step in front of you. One moment you were running, the next you had bumped into a figure swathed in white. Were they an angel? Did you even believe in angels any more? Bloodied hands, your own hands you realized too late, scrambled for purchase against his face, leaving uneven marks scrawled across his cheeks.

_ “Boe enni nestron!” _ Hands lifted you, pressing your wounded side to porcelain robes. Flaxen hair was stained crimson. Screams of death and agony echoed in all around you, the ground being swallowed up behind as your head lolled against an arm, the blurred image of a group surrounding the orcs and slaughtering them. Horse hooves clattered against stone, images of a valley bathed in greens and blues swimming in front of you.

“ _ Hir-nin!” _ The voice emanated from the body still holding you, urgency... fear in his voice?  _ “Boe enni dulu! Iesten!” _ The horse clattered to a stop. Whatever singing, music, you had just heard was dying on the lips of those involved. You distinctly heard the sound of someone throwing up, trying to will your hand to move, but coming up with nothing. Pain surged through your body as he dismounted the horse.

“You should have gone to the healing wards.”

“With all due respect, my lord, I don’t think this mortal has that kind of time.” Fingers touched to your side and all that you could manage was a weakened cry. The burning hot touch of fire zinged against your skin, and that, now that made your scream echo in the Valley. It was not often that Elrond couldn’t heal using Vilya, but this body had rejected it.

“Wards! Now! We have a battle ahead of us!” Elrond ordered. He hesitated a moment, taking in the frightened eyes of the dwarves, Lindir’s pale and shaken form, and the aghast eyes of the other minstrels in the area. His hands were sticky with blood, the hem of his golden robes leaving marks against the floor as he stood. The white horse was abandoned and servants were coming now to take it away, its coat muddied in dried blood, the mortal’s blood, he realized. 

Still, he shook himself away from it, following after the guardian’s sprint, judging by the spatters of blood that littered the ground.

“Damn it, breathe!” Glorfindel’s fist slammed down on the mortal’s chest. He had been in the middle of his healing spell when you’d finally succumbed to the blood loss, when the light from your eyes had dimmed and your eyes had fluttered shut. But you woke again to the register of sharp pain in your chest, gasping for air. Elrond knelt to the side of your bed, drawing power for healing moreso out of his own fea and less from the power of Vilya. It exhausted him, but it had to be done, for the gaping wound on your side closed in on itself. At the very least, you weren’t bleeding to death anymore. Elrond had to step away for a moment to let the other healers take over, trying to reflect on what had just happened.

In his eyes, the wandering guardian Gildor had abruptly entered into a private dinner on horseback, his face and clothing stained red with crimson blood, begging for his help. He had to assume that you’d been attacked by orcs. Given the wound on your side, he wasn’t sure how you’d survived. In fact, given the facts, he wasn’t entirely sure you would survive. But his eyes alighted on Gildor; despite the blood and grit that covered him, he hadn’t left.

“You’re still here.” Elrond commented. Gildor’s eyes flickered to him.

“She won’t let go.” It was difficult to see that in the flurry which surrounded you. “I don’t understand.”

“Orcs?”

“Yes, but... these wounds, they’re old. The newest one was clearly the most pressing one, but I don’t understand how she could have pressed on. She has to be in pain...” Gildor murmured. You had a vice like grip on his wrist, ensuring that your pretty flaxen-haired angel didn’t go anywhere. Glass and metal were embedded in your body, bruises and gash marks on your form. You looked like you’d been tortured, but Gildor didn’t know of anything that could ever produce this kind of damage to the body. Hell, elves did not usually wake from these types of wounds. But you were awake, and you were staring at him. Occasionally you would grimace as the healers worked the shrapnel from your body, but you were quiet, much quieter than you’d been when he first picked you up.

He supposed that he could try to talk to you. “ _ Mellon-nin?” _ Your eyes flickered to meet his own at the words.

_ “Hir-nin.” _ You breathed out softly, a cough wracking your form. You tasted blood in the back of your throat.

“You... speak Elvish.” Gildor murmured, shock showing through on his form. He knelt to the side of the bed, coming closer.

“I know little.” You replied, coughing again. The healer working over you frowned. Arguably, he was pretty to look at too. But then again, so were most of them. “Can I sleep yet?”

“Not yet, little one.” He murmured, his hands on your shoulders. He almost seemed to glow with energy, a golden like aura surrounding him. “Hold on a little longer.”

“You must be lucky that you’re all very pretty. Makes holding on a little easier.” You murmured. The taste of blood receded a little bit, becoming easier to breathe as you talked. He smiled from his position above you.

“Keep talking. It helps reveal to me where you’re hurting.”

“You can tell that by my voice?” You asked.

“Not exactly. It’s more of listening to the tone and pitch of your voice. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“I’m Y/N. I don’t think I’m from your world.”

The inconsistency of your injuries, Elrond realized.

“I don’t uh... I don’t know what happened.” You murmured. “Who are you?”

“Glorfindel.” He replied, focusing his strength into deeper wounds, internal bleeding from the cracked ribs he’d given you, and washing it from your body.

“The Balrog-Slayer?” You squeaked, and then pain suddenly wracked your body again as shrapnel tore through flesh on its way out. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down on your lip to stifle the cry of pain, your fingers digging into Gildor’s wrist. You were certain that there were oaths muttered in a language you didn’t know because suddenly what had been slow and steady healers working away was now a flurry of activity.

“Damn.” His voice sounded far away again.

“Get Galadriel down here! Now!” No... that voice... now you were certain you were dreaming.

_ Losing her... get me an OR ready now! _ Brief flickers of real life flitted through your mind. You were losing your grip on Gildor’s wrist, your fingers falling slack.

“No.” He pleaded, forgetting all Elvish propriety and touching your face, bringing your eyes to his. “You must hold on!”

_ She’s failing. She’s not going to make it. Let her go. _

Your blood was on his cheeks, stained there in his hair. He was beautiful; arguably so were any of them and then light flooded your vision. You saw Galadriel standing there, bathed in light, eyes so piercing that they could have struck you dead upon seeing her.

“Huh.”

“You’re dying.” She breathed. You shrugged slightly. “Does it mean so little to you?”

“I doubt my going would have been this interesting in another world.” You replied. Her eyes flickered to your wounds. She pressed her hand to your side, not to heal rather, but to find the spirit that had been torn between two bodies. You felt your eyes closing, your grip finally, really falling from Gildor’s wrist.

_ No. _

_ No?  _ **_You asked. You didn’t see anyone anymore. You couldn’t hear anyone anymore_ ** _. What do you mean no? _

_ I see all that transpires in this world... and sometimes in others. It’s the reason why you were chosen. _

_ I don’t... understand. Chosen for what? I’m... no one special. I have problems that I do not dare put on others. _

_ Your will to fight. Your ability to survive. I will give you immortality; I will give you that which you have once longed for.  _ **_Well that didn’t exactly narrow your horizons. You had wanted for much over the course of your life, to be pain free was one of them but you doubted this... whatever it was was magically going to make that go away. Immortality, sure, but only at the cost of it being pain free. You had wanted to be brave, to be courageous, but you were limited by your mental issues. You had wanted to be a warrior, a fighter, but you were limited by your physical issues. Point blank, you were sick, and you had been most of your life. Death would have been a relief, but more in the not wanting to burden others and less in the... well, there were negative connotations around it to say. You were already battle scarred and beaten by your own mind; while the idea of Middle-Earth was intriguing, you weren’t really sure that you had a place there._ **

**_The light around you almost seemed to chuckle._ ** _ You doubt your worth here. _

_ I do not see the reason you do what you do. _

_ You will see it eventually... Y/N.  _ **_Well that was less than helpful._ **

“Huh... got the bleeding under control, _hir-nin, hiril-nin_.”

“And the physical changes?” WHAT PHYSICAL CHANGES!? 

“I... do not know how to explain that.” Someone murmured. “Perhaps it is caused by stress on the human body? We’re not really attuned to the deeper healing of humans.” Ok, well the pain hadn’t gone away and you were semi conscious, feeling like you’d been battered.

“Let her get some rest. We’ll see if she wakes.” You pinpointed that voice yet again, a soft husky whisper. No, it could not be. It could not be. You drifted to the thought of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hir/hir-nin - Lord/My Lord  
> Ego - Get out  
> Mitho orch - Go kiss an orc  
> Le hannon - Thank you  
> Mellon-nin - My friend

You didn’t really wake feeling much different than you had when you fell asleep. Everything kind of still hurt, and less of an achy, chronic pain way and more of a been through a traumatic experience kind of way.

“So she wakes.” You glanced to the side to see the golden-haired ellon sitting watch.

“Wha... I mean, I don’t mean to be rude here but don’t you, you of all people, have better things to be doing than keeping watch over a human?” Glorfindel’s blue eyes flickered to you.

“You intrigue me. You died again... and this time nothing we could do brought you back. And then suddenly, your heart started beating of its own will. You seem to have experienced some sort of... transformation.”

“I...”

“You’re not magic, are you?”

“Fuck if I know.” You muttered. His head whipped around to you sharply.

“Better not let Lord Elrond catch you using that word. Bad enough that I got reamed out for swearing while I was healing you.” To this, you chuckled softly.

“I take it that elves are usually a proper sort of people. Humans say that swearing increases your tolerance to pain. So he will have to excuse the fuck out of me because I’m always in pain.” You replied.

“I see there will be no reasoning with you.” Glorfindel murmured. “I would be careful around him; he is capable of his own vitriol, and worse that you may not understand it.”

“The ellon who brought me in... where is he?” You asked.

“Gildor? He went back on duty as guardian of the realm. With orc patrols coming so close to our borders, his job is important now more than ever. You called him an ellon... how much about us, about our language, do you know?”

“I... don’t think that can be quantified in a number.” You replied, finding your mouth starting to dry. A healer came to you before you could get up, giving you tea and something light to eat. “When can I leave the wards?”

“You’ve suffered several traumatic injuries.” Glorfindel replied. “Truthfully, we weren’t sure you were going to live. Elves wouldn’t have lived through that. Gildor said he found you by accident. The war cries of the orcs overpowered your own sounds. You were making good time, wherever you were going, but the moment he got his arms around you, he knew something was wrong. You made one of the minstrels at dinner throw up.”

“Yes, I actually remember that.”

“And with good reason, since I’m fairly sure your intestines belong inside your body. I don’t... I don’t understand how you survived.” Glorfindel shook his head.

“So what is the Balrog-slayer doing in healing wards? Taking a break from battle?”

“Those days are behind me.” He replied.

“Really?”

“The world is at peace.” You shook your head. “You disagree? You disagree. To each his own opinion I suppose.”

“It’s not really an opinion at this point.”

“You know... there’s a meeting of guardians. Lord Elrond, the Lady Galadriel, Lord Saruman, and Mithrandir...”

“I know.” Glorfindel shook his head.

“You’re a strange little human.”

“Ah, yes, but you must adore me or you wouldn’t have stayed in here.” You retorted, earning yourself a laugh from him.

“I think you’re the type to get out of bed and go for a walk when people aren’t looking.” Glorfindel remarked, eyes lit in amusement.

“Oh, so you’re my guardian, are you?” You asked. “Does the Lord of Imladris himself think that I will be trouble for his lands?”

“Considering that his name may have been a breath on your lips as you died, I think that I am not the only one intrigued by you. Considering all things, his name should have not been known to you.” Your cheeks flushed red beneath the dim light of dawn. “You know things, little mortal.”

**_Mortality. Could it be that you had come this far and suffered thus far to be made an immortal now against your wishes? What plan could it be that the gods had written for you?_ **

Whatever playful banter you had had a moment ago was gone. You settled back into your bed to drink the now cold tea and eat the small portion of bread. “If you happen to be out and about and you see Gildor, would you give him my thanks?” You asked, shutting down. Glorfindel noticed the reaction but wasn’t sure what had triggered it. All playfulness of you was gone. You had physically become blank, as if he were staring at an empty shell or perhaps even a passive canvas.

“Of course.” When it seemed like you were satisfied with his answer, you turned your back to him, pulling the thin sheet over your body.

* * *

It was night again by the time that you were visited again, aside from healers cleaning and rebandaging your wounds.

“You know, one of my most fierce warriors seems to think that you’re rather intriguing.” You didn’t roll over; you kept your back turned. “I know you’re awake.” You still didn’t roll over; he tried a different tactic. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit in the chest with a battering ram.” It wasn’t a complete lie; you just didn’t say why.

“Ah. We are somehow strangers to each other. I would like to know how you know my name.”

“Well good luck getting that out of me.” You replied. “If it’s one thing I’ve learned from stories like these, it’s that you don’t mess with the future.”

“And the question of my name?”

“Why does it bother you, Peredhel? You’re well known in these parts. What more is there to know?” You asked, tossing a glance over your shoulder, briefly meeting eyes with him.

“You’re insistent.”

“You’re fucking nosy.” He nearly recoiled in shock, eyes wide. “Did _hir-nin_ Glorfindel not warn of my swearing habit? Should I wonder what other secrets he spills behind my back when I am asleep?”

“You spit vitriol. You must be in pain.”

“Pain is a reminder that I am alive. The powers that be brought me here, brought me back. Now I get to live with it.” You spat.

“You wanted to die.” Elrond murmured.

“Well I certainly didn’t want to live if that’s what you’re implying. So I’m immortal; now what? Now I get to live an immortal life full of pain? Do me a favor and put me out of the misery.” You grumbled.

“Where do you hurt?” He asked.

“Go.” You shook your head.

“I can help you.”

“I said GO!” You snapped. _“Ego! Mitho orch!”_

“Valar.” Elrond muttered, leaving with a cautious glance back to the frozen faces of the healers who were on watch. For three days, you toiled in the healing wards, and rumors of your harsh words to Elrond spread quickly. Most elves avoided you, and when you were finally released, it was Lindir who bit his lip and escorted you to a talan that Elrond had picked for you. You hardly spoke to him, just listening as he gave you the rundown of Imladris, including community mealtimes if you wanted to attend them and a list of servants you could requisition to your aid.

“ _Le hannon, Hir_ Lindir.” You murmured as he left. He gave you quite the quizzical glance as you shut the door to your talan. You showed nothing of the fire you had spat at his master. He wasn’t sure about you but surely if the whole of Imladris avoided you, then something had to be wrong with you.

It was simple, rather basic. You had your few choice of outfits in the closet, a bed, a small kitchen, and a small bathroom. You couldn’t even remember what your home had looked like. Did you have people who would miss you? Did you even care? You slid down from the edge of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest. A knock sounded at the door but you ignored it. When it sounded again, you snapped. “Go the fuck away!”

“It’s me.” Glorfindel’s voice sounded through the door. “Y/N, you’ve shut everyone out, and I can’t tell if you did it on purpose or not.”

“Are you here on Elrond’s beck and whim?” You asked.

“I came to give you a housewarming gift. But I can just leave it on the porch if that’s what you want.” You finally picked yourself up and opened the door to see him getting ready to leave, a neatly wrapped package on your doormat.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked softly. He turned, seeing how close to tears you were. Glorfindel picked up the package, stepping inside as you opened the door a little bit wider.

“I’d forgotten that talans come as bare as newborns these days. I’d be miserable too if I lived here.” He tried to joke with you and you smiled, but it was strained. He set his package down on the small desk, turning to face you. “What is wrong, _mellon-nin_? Something I said upset you in the healing wards, but I do not know what has set you off. Nor how to fix it with things as wrought as they are between us. You’ve pushed everyone away, almost as if you don’t want to be here.”

“Do you really think I asked to be here, Glorfindel? Do you think I was given the choice to be brought back, when there was nothing more that you and your healers could do? No.”

“You... perhaps you could explain from the beginning?” He asked gently. “The more I know, perhaps the more I could help.”

“I doubt...” You shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes. They streaked down your face before you could hold them in and he crossed to you, wiping them away with his fingers.

“ _Mellon-nin_...” He breathed. He was so close that you became aware of his scent-- lemongrass, cedarwood, peppermint. You crumbled to his touch, wrapping your arms around him and utterly sobbing against him. Glorfindel was stunned for a moment, but he remembered you were only human. You needed this.

Your tears were spent long after night had fallen, yet he’d remained. He didn’t even think he could sleep long after you had surrendered to it. With a quiet promise to return in the morning, he slipped out, heading to the training fields to work off some of the tension in his shoulders.

“You’re up late.” Lindir commented.

“Yes.” Glorfindel murmured, picking up a training staff. “I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

“So what’s bothering you?” Lindir asked. Glorfindel was quiet for a moment, his hair untucked and flying away as he warmed up.

“It’s the human. She’s hurting.” Glorfindel frowned.

“You’re the only one whose dares to go to her. Isn’t she mean, awful? I mean she told Elrond to go kiss an orc...”

“Something about him upsets her, I think.” Glorfindel replied, moving elegantly for an ellon who hadn’t practiced for war in decades. 

“He’s the most genteel creature the Valley has to offer, and she’s upset by him, of all people? You, I could understand. You’re not exactly the most gentle or the most... appropriate creature to ever grace this valley.”

“Mind your tongue, Lindir; I’m not in the mood for it.” Glorfindel muttered, swinging around and letting the staff breeze by the other ellon’s face. Lindir yelped as it missed him by hairs. “I knew well enough where I aimed but I will not miss a second time.”


	3. Chapter 3

True to his word, Glorfindel visited almost every morning. He had duties to attend to in Imladris, but they were few and far in between, mostly councils that he could put off or delegate to someone else. You became accustomed to his company, to seeing his bright hair every morning, even though you were hardly a morning person. Yet still you withered, and he, for the life of him could not figure out why.

You received meals through servants since you dared not go out. You wouldn’t leave your talan unless otherwise accompanied by him and he knew that you enjoyed the wonder of the Valley, by the way that it showed in your eyes. So one night he didn’t show to accompany for a walk of the gardens and waited to see what you would do. You just assumed he was tired of your company and holed yourself away. You weren’t feeling good to begin with, but you had put on a brave face for him so that he might not ask questions.

You heaved over the toilet, losing your dinner. It was how most nights were going as of late. You couldn’t know if you just needed time to adjust to Elven food, but you would have killed for a soda and crackers to at least keep something on your stomach.

“Y/N?” When he’d gotten there, inside, you weren’t sure, as another wave of nausea hit and you retched again, tasting acid and bile. “You’re ill.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious.” You muttered.

“What can I do to help?” He asked, crouching near you. “I can get healers.”

“It’s just nausea, Glorfindel.” You replied. “It will pass... eventually.” The wracking pain tore through your middle and you heaved, one arm clutched over your stomach. He frowned.

“I’ll be right back.” His hand touched your shoulder and he left, aiming for the kitchens to gather some lembas and herbs for tea.

“Coming to raid for a late night snack?” Lindir asked.

“Why is it that our paths have crossed more as of late?” Glorfindel asked.

“You don’t sound pleased.”

“Hm.” Glorfindel refused to give into the other ellon’s taunt, gathering his supplies and leaving, snagging the fresh packet of lembas that Lindir had just made, making him snap at the golden-haired ellon on the way out.

“Rude. So rude.” Lindir muttered. Just because Glorfindel was one of his best friends did not, at times, mean that he agreed a hundred percent with everything that the other ellon did. He was curious about why Glorfindel acted the way he did about the human; he didn’t even give the time of day to other elleths and they always vied for his attention.

Meanwhile Glorfindel had returned to you, finding you shivering with fever that ate away at your form. You were in pain... had he been ignoring it all this time? Still, he moved about the room quietly, brewing a tea. Once it had cooled some, he offered it to you, helping you sit up and rest against him so that you wouldn’t choke. With some tea and a little bit of lembas on your stomach, some of the color returned to your cheeks and your fever broke. The lack of food, Glorfindel realized, was causing your discomfort. But what could be causing you to be sick every night? Were you being poisoned? Surely Imladris’ servants would not stoop so low...

Glorfindel unwrapped the fresh lembas, offering you a bite. It was Lindir’s recipe so it was sweeter than the rest. You started to take a bite and then the smell hit you. Sugar, nuts... cinnamon.

“No.” You refused it. “No, no... that has cinnamon in it.”

“It’s Lindir’s recipe. It’s sweet.”

“Yes I understand, but I’m allergic to cinnamon. So unless you want to see it again, I’m not going to eat it.” You murmured.

“You’re allergic? What’s that?” You blinked. You guessed that elves didn’t have or get allergies.

“Uh... it’s when the body treats something normal and harmless as not normal and harmless? I can’t eat cinnamon; it will make my tongue go numb and I will throw up.” Glorfindel tipped his head to you in curiosity.

“That sounds like a medical issue.”

“Welcome to my life.” You muttered sarcastically. He noted that as important information to ask Elrond about later. It was true; they didn’t treat many humans in Imladris, at least not ones who had the plethora of issues that you seemed to have. He folded the lembas back into its wrap; he would eat it later then, and continued to feed you little bites and let you drink the tea until it was gone and you were resting comfortably against him. It wasn’t long before sleep took you. He was glad that you were comfortable in his presence. He left half a packet of lembas on the desk for you and tucked you in, leaving for the libraries.

* * *

“You’re up late... again.” Glorfindel stiffened for a moment but relaxed when he realized it was Elrond and not Erestor coming to ream him out for eating in the library. He had pulled all books on human anatomy and medicine that were available, reading intently while absentmindedly eating. “Lindir says you’re on edge.”

“Busy.” Glorfindel replied. 

“Anything I can help with?” Elrond asked.

“What do you know about this thing that humans call allergies?” Elrond eased himself into the chair across from Glorfindel.

“What is it?”

“Y/N said that it’s something harmless and natural that the body treats as harmful and unnatural.”

“I’ve always regarded that as a sensitivity. In the way that some elves cannot be treated via human medicine because it causes issues with the skin. Why, what did she say would happen and what about?” Elrond asked.

“She said she was allergic to cinnamon, that it would cause her tongue to go numb and make her throw up.” Elrond blinked in surprise.

“But cinnamon is a human grown spice. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sensitive to some elven spices, but I would think not her own.”

“She was adamant. She wouldn’t even touch the lembas.” Glorfindel replied. “She’s sick, Elrond.”

“I know. I’ve thought about trying again... but I’m scared that our people will treat her worse if they overhear much more. She seems to accept you. Perhaps you can be the liaison between us.” Elrond sighed, scanning one of the books for the words Glorfindel has suggested. The other ellon pushed half the lembas bread in his direction and he took it, knowing Lindir’s handiwork by the way it melted in his mouth. “Consider perhaps asking Lindir to make it without cinnamon?” Elrond asked.

“What in the good name of the Valar are you? ARE YOU EATING IN THE LIBRARY?!” Erestor’s voice echoed out over Elrond’s house. Glorfindel snatched up his half and shoved it in his mouth, turning to Erestor with full cheeks and blatantly shaking his head. Elrond only chuckled softly. Erestor turned his full wrath onto him and deflated when he saw Elrond there reading and eating at the same time.

“My lord...” Erestor sighed. “I cannot condone it, but neither can I stop you. And you... you have been causing havoc all over this Valley. You have a duty, Glorfindel.” The golden-haired ellon shrugged.

“Then I’m resigning. Effective immediately.” Even Elrond choked for a moment.

“You’re sure?” Elrond asked. “Our councils would be displeased to see you go.”

“You would throw your life away for that mortal?” Erestor frowned. “You aren’t the ellon I thought you were.”

“Erestor.” Elrond warned, but now Glorfindel had risen, his soft blue eyes hardened into steel.

“And who gave you the right to presume you know anything about me?” Glorfindel asked. “Y/N is a guest of the Valley, and she is sick and she is hurting. My duty, my duty is as a healer!”

“Let him delegate his councils, Erestor. He has a point.” Elrond murmured.

“Very well. I will assign someone in his stead until he returns.” Erestor bowed and backed away, leaving the two alone. 

“You have passion that should not be wasted, Glorfindel. You are passionate about your councils; I know you are... I just think that perhaps Y/N takes a priority in your mind right now. You’re the only one who can get through to her.”

“She’s... comfortable around me. I... don’t want to do anything to betray that fragile bond of trust. I don’t want to hurt her.” Elrond smiled at this, Glorfindel catching it out of his peripheral and ignoring it. Surely that wasn’t the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel has really taken a shine to you, despite you hoping otherwise, and it’s attracted you some unwanted attention from the ellith of the Greenwood. You’ve no choice but to flee into the wilds of Imladris, and not even Elrond can find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mellon/mellon-nin - Friend/my friend  
> Iesten - Please  
> Hir/hir-nin - Lord/my lord  
> Boe enni nestron - I need a healer

So the next morning, he was back at your door, having persuaded a very sleepy Lindir to make a batch of lembas without cinnamon all while arguing that it wouldn’t taste as good. He found you still asleep and left it on the desk. Unbeknownst to him that the whispers were starting to circulate; some of the visiting elleths were starting to grow jealous of the time he dedicated to you.

He attended to his duties in the healing wards, reading in his spare time, studying texts that he wasn’t familiar with. And he thought nothing more on Elrond’s smile.

You still didn’t dare leave until night fell and he was there, holding a book and bringing dinner with him. The two of you read together, well, more of him reading and you following along based on pictures as he tried to figure out your allergy. You tried to tell him that it wasn’t anything that could be healed, just poor genetic combinations, but that went so far over his head that you gave up, eating dinner with him. He finally pulled everything that they served in the kitchens and with help from him in identifying what some of the ingredients were, he learned that you were allergic to more than one of them, in more than one way. 

He started to bring a journal to make notes, and for once, you didn’t mind. You had a feeling he was reporting to Elrond.

“So you can’t eat...” He listed off a various haul of ingredients and spices, “And if you do eat this, it could kill you.”

“Sounds about right.”

“How have you been eating at all?” Glorfindel asked, writing down his notes.

“I...” You didn’t know how to answer him, turning your head away in shame. “It is a cross between eating it anyways and facing the wrath of it or not eating at all.”

“Even though it could kill you?” 

“What loss would it be, Glorfindel?” You asked, tears in your eyes. “You’re the only one who cares!”

“I know you marvel at the Valley! I see the wonder in your eyes! Does it mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing to you?” He asked sharply. Tears pricked in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. Your shoulders shook once, twice, a sharp sob breaking the silence between the two of you. “I... spoke out of turn. Forgive me.” Glorfindel murmured, drawing you into his arms. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt you.

“You’re important to me, Glorfindel.” You finally mumbled, sinking into his embrace. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’re wasting your time. I’m not worth what you give to me.” He rested his head on top of yours, holding you close, holding you tightly until he felt you relax again, but not even then, letting go of you. No, he could not. He had done this. He was blessed that you could still fall asleep in his arms and he cleaned up the mess, leaving after he was certain you were asleep.

The weeks passed on like this until the winter season hit. At first, he didn’t notice anything was off about you. You had started to go back on walks with him, even going to the dining hall with him occasionally. And then one particularly bitingly cold morning, you wouldn’t get out of bed at all. He’d left breakfast on the desk and you didn’t even have the energy to move, burrowing beneath your blankets.

When he returned for your nightly walk, he discovered that you hadn’t moved, much if at all. “Y/N?” Glorfindel questioned softly, taking a seat on your bed. Your eyes were red and swollen from tears, cheeks stained red with flush. “ _Mellon-nin_?” Glorfindel prodded for an answer and received none other than a low whimper of pain. You opened your eyes blearily, if only to get a glimpse of him and press your head to the outside of his thigh, savoring in the warmth of him. “You’re freezing, _mellon-nin_.” Yes you were cold, and the pain was only sharpened by the cold. He took his cloak, wrapping it around you and leaving if but only for a little while. Cold night air burst across your talan when he returned, bearing fur lined blankets and heavy quilts. He stacked wood high across the wall of your talan, striking a fire in the fireplace. Soon warmth bled through the area, but you were still nested beneath your blankets and Glorfindel appeared to be making you a nest of them.

He stayed to make tea and read to you until you slept again, and stayed furthermore overnight so that the fire would not burn out and you would not freeze overnight. When morning came and you were awake, he finally left, leaving his book on the desk and heading out to get some sleep in the healing wards before work.

You took some time to yourself, drawing yourself a warm bath. You weren’t expecting anyone else for the rest of the day. You sank to the warmth of the water, letting your silvery grey hair fan out behind you. It was the physical change that everyone had spoken of. Truthfully you didn’t mind it; you were going grey anyways despite your youth. You never heard them coming. 

You were yanked from the tub by your hair, dangling at the mercy of what you recognized were other elleths. “You’re not even that pretty; I don’t see why he likes you!” One of them sneered. You were dropped to the floor ruthlessly, snatching on a thin robe to ward against your nakedness. They cornered you, a leather boot landing against your side, still tender from the obvious wound that had gotten you here. “Get up!” She reached down and grabbed you by your hair again, a fist landing against your jaw and cheek. You were too stunned to move for a moment. What had you even done to them?

“What... what did I do?” You asked, tears filling your eyes.

“Aww... look at her cry.” Another punch landed against your cheek, searing pain ripping across your face. You were dangling and practically helpless, little to do but put your hands up and try to stop anymore incoming attacks. “Your rescuer is sleeping, so go on, cry for him!” They taunted.

You realized they were talking about Glorfindel. “He’s just a friend!”

“Friends don’t go sleep in other friend’s houses, especially not those of another gender! Friends don’t give their personal belongings to another gender. And friends definitely don’t share their clothes with another gender!”

Wha... you were gobsmacked. Humans did all those things. Were elves really that prudent that they didn’t, at all? 

“Start the fire. You don’t belong here. You definitely don’t belong with him. And we’re going to make sure of that.”

“Lord Elrond...”

“You think you can call on him, after what you said to him? You’re mistaken.” You scrambled for purchase on the floor, gaining enough momentum to pull free and lunge out of the bathroom, grappling for the desk. Hands were buried in your hair before you could go further, but at that point you’d yanked open the drawer and withdrawn the dagger, shearing your hair off. Your room was filled with smoke as fire licked at the oil spread around the room. There were screams of frustration and you were shoved back into the burning kitchen, against the counter hard. It took your breath away as fire nipped at your skin. You lunged again, driving the dagger into the shoulder of one of the elleths. That got them to move. You grabbed Glorfindel’s book and his cloak, bursting out of the talan with them. They pulled on the cloak until it gave way, ripping into two and seeing no other option, you fled into the forests of Imladris. They made chase but lost you off the paths.

* * *

Glorfindel was working in the healing wards when a group of elleths came in, helping their friend along. She was pale and begging for mercy, her fingers clutched around a pretty serious gash on her shoulder. He sighed when they came to him, unwinding the white fabric from around her shoulder and then froze. This was his. This was his cloak torn in half and used to bind a wound. Something stirred in his chest, and he backed away, shaking his head.

“ _ Iesten, Hir Glorfindel. Boe enni nestron! _ ” She begged.

“No.” He turned on his heel and sprinted across the Valley. His eyes widened to see your talan in flames and burst inside, searching for you. “Y/N!” The smoke was thick and the flames choked out all life. He barely made it out as it came crashing down; clearly it had been burning for a while. “NO! No, no, no, no!” His screams drew others to his side, Elrond and Erestor prominently, and then Lindir sprinting behind. 

“You’re wounded, _mellon_.” Lindir murmured.

“You must go look for her!” Glorfindel pleaded. His head swam thickly with the smoke and ash in the back of his throat. “ _Hir-nin_ , I am begging you. Send out a search party.”

“I do not think that anyone could have...” Erestor trailed off when Elrond gave him a sharp glare.

“Get him to the healing wards!”

“No! Not with those harpies in there!” Glorfindel ground out.

“Then put him in my house, and get healers for him. I will go.” Elrond assured, letting Erestor help him to his feet. “Lindir, assemble a search party and send them out to all borders of Imladris.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Lindir murmured. Elrond stood, watching the house still smolder. Blood stained the ground, droplets spattered from someone running. He followed the trail into the forest, but when it stopped on the path, the trail was lost. The expanse of Imladris was vast. He spent days in search and returned empty handed. Glorfindel was less than pleased. His leg was wrapped from where a charred piece of wood had landed on him and he ignored it, calling for Gildor to come back in the Valley. The two of them set off into the underexplored forests, knowing that the hard frosts of winter had yet to come. They’d lost the blood trail on the forest floor and now had no choice but to explore without a target in mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iesten - Please  
> Mellon-nin - My friend

You had wrangled the rest of the cloak into the bare minimum of clothing. Your back and arms were burned but you had no choice in the matter. Shelter from the cold became the first thing on your mind and you found a nook tucked behind one of the waterfalls. You could survive; you could do this.

You built yourself shelter and fire the first night, and piled branches and leaves to sleep somewhere other than the ground the second night. By the end of the first week, you’d learned to trap small game and make yourself shoes. By the end of the second week, you’d learned how to really skin deer. The hide was better than nothing, and you used the meat to attract larger predators.

By the end of the third week, the others were starting to pick up on your nondescript clues. It was the little things-- broken underbrush and slashed trees to mark your way. By the end of the fourth week, Glorfindel finally found you and he hesitated. You looked feral, crouched on a rock, bow readied. Your fingers loosed the arrow and it made its mark in the water. You returned only a few moments later with a wriggling fish speared on it.

“Y/N.” Glorfindel murmured softly. You drew your bow back, searching for his voice. “It’s Glorfindel.” You lowered the bow cautiously, watching him and Gildor step from the trees. “It’s cold out.” You gestured for them to follow, carrying the fish over your shoulders, back to your small camp. The fire burned warmly in the small hollow cave, the fish cooking nicely.

He wasn’t going to refuse the meal, taking the portion you offered to him. He watched you clean the arrow, replacing it in your quiver before taking your own meal. You wasted nothing. “It’s cold out.” He repeated softly. “Come home?”

“What home is left for me?” You asked. “Tell me, Glorfindel, what home is left?”

“Please.” He murmured. “Stay in my talan. Or let me secure a room for you in Lord Elrond’s house. You must be hurt.”

“What solace do I have in Imladris? Not even my own house was safe.” You replied bitterly. “Hurt? Yes. Dealt with. I wish I’d never come here.” You muttered.

“ _ Iesten, mellon-nin _ . The hard days of winter are not even here. You will freeze.” Glorfindel murmured.

“You’re awfully quiet.” You turned your attention onto Gildor.

“I’m impressed that you built this in a month’s time.”

“My survival demanded it.” You replied coldly. “I do not belong among your kind. Just... leave.”

“Please, Y/N.” Glorfindel pleaded. Gildor turned his head away. The warrior he knew Glorfindel as did not beg, but there was certainly desperation in his voice.

“No.” You turned your back on him. “Leave.” Glorfindel stood, taking his leave silently. He knew if he spoke again, it would not end well. Gildor remained a moment more, to finish his portion of the meal.

“He cares about you, you know.” Gildor murmured, leaving when you looked up and glared at him. He thought he might have heard you crying but couldn’t address it. He found Glorfindel making trail markers back to the main path. “I doubt she’ll take them.”

“I cannot...” Glorfindel’s voice was thick, clouded with emotion. “I cannot give up hope.”

* * *

You stayed to yourself. Yes, it was cold. Yes, you hated every minute of the cold, but you learned to make more out of the cave than just a hole in the wall. You built from clay and wood and made yourself more of a house. It was simple but it was hidden from the rest of the world. 

Your days turned into weeks, and weeks soon fell into months. Occasionally, you learned that patrols would come by. Gildor, more often than not, left things at your doorstep-- healing herbs or the rare package of lembas. You hated accepting things when you didn’t have anything to give in return. But one day he went to drop a package of herbs at your door and found something there waiting for him. You apparently had set out dried rations at some point and he picked them up in exchange for the packet. He was surprised you survived the winter but humans were known for resilience, he supposed.

Nearing spring he returned to the Valley to report to Elrond and narrowly avoided the twins talking about joining border patrol. Elrond was sitting at his desk, Glorfindel and Erestor on either side. Gildor set his reports down, almost wordlessly, and then turned back. “She’s still alive.”

The fire had left Glorfindel. Even his golden mane was dull. He did his work and spoke no more of it, though his eyes flickered to Gildor when he spoke of you.

“Humans are resilient creatures.” Erestor murmured.

“I go by about once a month. If you want me to leave something for her, I’ll be around for a few days-- I need to sharpen my tools and stock up on supplies.” Gildor murmured. Glorfindel left abruptly, not even bothering to say why and Elrond looked on him in sympathy.

“Do you see her?” Elrond asked.

“No. But she’s built a home out of the cave she was staying in.” Gildor replied.

“I worry for him. He is not the same.”

“He withers.” Gildor murmured. “He loves her. She’s his one. When we found her, she was bitter. Insistent on pushing him away.”

“Are the paths marked?” Elrond asked.

“Yes.”

“He isn’t the only one she’s pushed away.” Elrond murmured. “Erestor, manage the reports?”

“Of course, my lord.” Erestor replied. Elrond stood, leaving to get changed. He headed out into the wilderness. Spring was soon upon them. The solstice celebration would be soon. He traveled unhindered, with little more than a hunting dagger and a waterskin tied to his hip. He understood what Gildor meant by your home now; you had certainly survived, although you were a good two days journey from the Valley, tucked away in lower parts across rocky crags and cliffs. He sat himself down at your door. He could not ascertain whether you were inside or not.

You returned from your hunt to find your pathway occupied. “You’re kind of the last person I expected to see here.” You finally murmured.

“No vitriol today?” He asked.

“What do you want, Elrond?” You asked, stepping aside him to open your door, bringing in your hunt, and warming the room with a fire. “Close the door; it’s cold out.” You ordered. He stepped inside your small home, closing the door behind him. You had clearly carved more out than originally was here, enough for a small kitchen and a place to work.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to come back to the Valley.” Elrond murmured.

“I don’t belong there.” You replied.

“What happened to you was not your fault. I apologize. The ellyth who attacked you were visitors to the Valley out of Eryn Galen. Erestor reduced them to tears, and they are no longer welcome here. They went back to face the wrath of their king, who had sent them here in hopes of, how do I put it, strengthening alliances? He was not pleased when they were sent back, and they were severely punished.”

“I do not care.”

“Then why do you stay away?” Elrond asked. “I mean you’ve done well for yourself but there is no need.”

“Do you know why I pushed you away? Did you know that I came here loving you? Do you know that I still do? Why do you think I stayed away?” You asked, skinning the fish and skewering it to cook over the fire. You could feel his stare at you worked away. “Your silence is telling.” You murmured.

“But Glorfindel... He withers.”

“And how would it be fair to him?” You asked, finally facing him. “At least, out here I don’t have to worry about it. I can focus on my own survival and ignore my own stupid little heart.” Elrond frowned.

“Why me?”

“I’m from a world where you don’t exist, at least not in anything more than the pages of a book.” You gestured wildly, nearly knocking over your pot of plants and steadying it at the last moment. You ran your fingers through your hair raggedly. “I... don’t belong here. It is hard enough to care for myself. I do not wish to lean on anyone else for support either. And... I don’t have an answer for you. You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re selfless. You’re the Lord of Imladris. You’re both a healer and warrior. You’re someone who inspires me, someone I could aspire to be like, except you know, I’m human and full of flaws.”

“You’re also immortal. And even elves have flaws. I don’t believe that you love me; what I hear is adoration. But if you believe it so, then kiss me.” Elrond replied. He watched you grip the table, your knuckles turning white with tension.

“I will not hurt him. Not anymore than I already have.” You refused his offer, shaking your head.

“Then if you will not come to the Valley, let me send him to you. He is not well, and I cannot heal what ails him.” He watched the concern flit across your face, sadness showing through in your eyes.

“This is not fair to him.”

“You don’t love me.” Elrond replied. “You don’t. I don’t know what you feel towards me, but you want to protect Glorfindel. Your behavior... you may not love him, but you certainly do care for him. He withers. Let me send him to you.” You weren’t displeased with what Elrond offered, chewing on your bottom lip and turning the fish so that it didn’t burn. “Where did you learn to hunt and cook like this?”

“The brilliant thing about me is that I’ve got all this weird lore in my mind. Survival had nothing to do with the lack of knowledge but rather the physical limitations of my body.”

“You’re lucky you escaped.”

“I’m lucky that infection didn’t take me.” You replied, baring your back to Elrond to reveal the scarring from the burns. You hiked the shirt back over your head at his sharp gasp, turning the fish again.

“I... I’m sorry.” Elrond apologized. You pulled the fish off, setting a portion down for him to eat. He wasn’t going to be the one to refuse it, refilling his waterskin and nimble fingers picking the flesh from the bone and eating it. It was surprisingly good. “You’ve learned to adapt.” You shrugged.

“Survival demands adaption, evolution.” You replied, taking your own portion and preparing the rest for dehydration and drying. 

“Do you agree with what Gildor does? Leaving supplies for you?”

“I would prefer that I have something to give in return. Only recently have I been able to make a surplus of supplies, but I might would consider making more to keep up the trade with him.” You replied, taking a seat in front of the fire, pulling your jacket closer to your shoulders and eating quietly. “I... hm.” You sighed softly. There was a desire to go back into the Valley but you were stubborn. “You may send Glorfindel here.”

“I may have to carry him here.” Elrond replied. “I do not know that he has much fight left in him.”

“Did I cause this?” You asked. “And if so, what makes you so sure I will be able to fix this?”

“I don’t know that you didn’t cause it. Glorfindel has always been private about his affections, but it was no secret to the Valley that he spent every moment of his free time with you, again, something that has stirred up jealousy among our available ellyth, but none of the Valley are bold enough to... make such rash moves against you. I know that his heart ached that he wasn’t able to help you, that you wouldn’t let him help you.”

“But he did help me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Elrond murmured, setting aside his finished portion. He suspected that you had learned to use the bones and so, not much if anything, went to waste within your household. You showed the dagger sheathed against your hip, and showed him a book pulled from the confines of a hollowed out cubby.

“Glorfindel gave me the tools I needed to survive.” You replied softly. “Everything in this book shows me what I can and can’t eat; it has drawings of plants local to the Valley, what can be used to heal and what plants are poisonous.” You gave the book to Elrond to look through.

“His notes...” Elrond breathed, thumbing through the pages. He had known that Glorfindel took his role as a healer very seriously, but not realized the extent of it. “This has kept you alive?”

“It has kept me relatively unharmed by the wilds.” You replied. 

“I should go. Bring him here.”

“Don’t be daft. Night is drawing in and so is the tide. One slip of your feet on the crags and you could die.” You replied. “Stay until morning.”

“And where would you sleep?”

“I don’t particularly find that to be any of your business.” You replied, disappearing around an unlit corner.


End file.
